


Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

by kittydesade



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittydesade/pseuds/kittydesade





	Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/gifts).



Soft hands over solid thighs, slender fingers undoing his belt buckle. The dark skin of her cheek made a beautiful contrast against the deep dark of her hair, against the pale of his chest. Her lips did unspeakable things to his nerve endings. He didn't know how she did it, but she was unbelievably hot even when all he could see of her was the smooth curve of her back and the top of her beautiful head.

"God, Aisha…"

Jensen had seriously never had a girl like this. Ever. No, she wasn't a girl, she was all woman, and all in-fucking-credible. He didn't know how he was going to survive.

And she knew it, too. She grinned up at him, dark eyes sparkling and mischievous and then she had his pants open and, um, that could get embarrassing. He knew he was leaking through his Jockeys. She had that effect on him.

But she didn't seem to mind. And when he couldn't stand it anymore and flipped her onto her back as gently as he could she growled that little sexy growl she had and rolled _him_ , pushing him down into the couch and forcing him to sit up a little or fall off. "Aisha…"

"Shh…" her lips were right by his. Oh god. "I know what I'm doing." She smirked.

Yeah, she did. He couldn't argue that, not when she was straddling his lap and he could feel her ungodly long legs wrapped around and against his body, her breasts pressed against him. Soft under his fingertips, responsive, her body arching when he touched her and the sounds she made, oh the sounds, she moaned and he moaned in response and…

"What are you doing?"

"Wha…"

Was he doing something wrong? Why, what… Her fingers in his hair, so it couldn't be that wrong, except.

Except that wasn't soft flesh under his cheek but hard plastic. Really hard plastic. Kind of like something else that was hard now, and nothing to do with it but run off to take a long, cold shower. It was all a dream.

Wait, if it was all a dream, why could he still feel her hand in his hair?

Jensen opened his eyes. Aisha sat perched on the corner of the table, petting his head like a puppy. With that amused little smile on her face that she turned on him pretty often, the one that could deflate his ego with a sharp comment if she really wanted to. He braced himself for the skewering. If he'd been moving or talking or something enough for her to ask him what he was doing, yeah. She probably knew what he'd been dreaming about.

"Uh." He sat up and moved away, scooted to the other end of the bench. "Fell asleep."

"I noticed." She got down off the table and went to the old coffee can that hid her chocolate stash. "Clay works you too hard, sometimes, I think."

"No, it was just the … wait, you what?" Jensen blinked. That so hadn't been what he'd expected, he had to look at Aisha to make sure she hadn't been replaced by a doppelganger or some kind of jelly-like pod person.

She shrugged, grabbing out a Hersheys bar and unwrapping the corner, breaking off a bit and nibbling on it while she kept him on tenterhooks waiting for an answer. Whatever those were. He kept meaning to look that phrase up and never had.

"He rides you too hard," she told him, and he almost choked on her using that word and in the context of Clay and his dream and, um. Okay, never mind. "Look at you, how late were you up last night? You get sucked into that computer and don't come out again until Cougar comes in to put you to bed."

Now he was blushing. If he hadn't been blushing before when she'd interrupted his dream, now he was really blushing. "Hey, he does not put me to…"

"Doesn't put you to bed or doesn't tuck you in?" She smirked at him.

"Either." Pause. He knew it wasn't true, she had to know it too, especially if she, um. She wouldn't say something like that without knowing it for a fact. Or tricking him into admitting it. "More the tucking in part. I mean, can you imagine a guy like me getting tucked in by… it'd be embarrassing. If anyone were around to see it. Which they wouldn't be. Why are we still talking about this?"

"We're not." She laughed. She was laughing at him, but she was also throwing the other half of her chocolate bar to him, and considering stealing Aisha's chocolate was an offense punishable by loss of ear, he grabbed it and tore off the wrapper like a kid at Christmas. Laughing was totally forgiven.

He nibbled, and she nibbled, and for a while neither of them talked about the embarrassing position she'd found him in or the equally embarrassing discussion of who exactly got to be in the vicinity of Jensen in a bed in non-barracks conditions. He couldn't even remember what he'd been doing before he fell asleep. At least he hadn't fallen asleep in any food, which meant he probably hadn't been eating. Had he been fixing food? Or thinking about fixing food. When had he last eaten something, anyway? Other than Aisha's chocolate.

She was licking melted chocolate off her fingers and the wrapper, too. Not fair at all.

"Clay's a lucky guy," he blurted out, looking over at her. Her eyebrows shot up and her face got that dangerous look when someone, usually Pooch these days, said something that dragged everyone on a fast road to Aisha-splosion.

"Oh?"

The dream. He'd been talking in his sleep, hadn't he, and the stupid dream gave her the wrong idea and, crap. Crappity crap. "I mean…" he swallowed the last bit of chocolate. "The way you, um. Take care of all of us. I mean, you can talk to Cougar, which is pretty good considering he doesn't exactly talk, and Pooch actually trusts you to babysit when we're around the fam, which is pretty major, and…" he spread his hands. "You haven't killed me yet."

Which wasn't what he meant at all, but he wasn't feeling up to saying how she made things better, how she fit in and she backed up the team, and it hadn't been an immediate thing but having her at his back made him feel safer.

And how she and Clay were like the first parents he'd ever had who were actual parents, and not whirling crazy chaos demons from hell come to destroy his and his sister's lives. Maybe not at first, but they'd gotten there. He definitely wasn't saying that.

"I see." Danger averted. She kind of smiled, crumpled up the wrapper in her hand and tossed it towards the trash. "Get some sleep, Jensen. You're clearly delusional." Which was Aisha for her being okay with it. Being Team Mom, and being Clay's partner, not just in bed but in the team. Which was good. He kind of envied Clay a little, but not nearly so much that he'd even think of breaking that up. They were just too damn good for each other. And he was really glad she was good with that.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He hauled himself up and followed her to the door. And then, because he couldn’t resist and he still kind of had that dream in the back of his mind, and most importantly because his bunk was in the opposite direction of hers and Clay's, he went there. "You gonna tuck me in?"

He was pretty sure she meant that knife to thunk into the wall half a foot or so from his head as he skidded around the corner and booked it down the hall. She'd waited until he'd gotten a good head start. He was pretty sure.


End file.
